


Politics, Prejudice, and Pure-Bloods

by LeoKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discrimination, Gen, Social Issues, Squibs, Wizarding Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoKitty/pseuds/LeoKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has never been a muggle-born Minister for Magic. Norbert Leach plans to change that. In his way stands Abraxas Malfoy, and having brought himself to the attention of the pure-bloods Norbert soon finds every path blocked.</p><p>The world is changing. And muggle-born politician Norbert Leach is at the forefront of that change.</p><p>HPFF - WINNER of MargaretLane's "The History of the Wizarding World" challenge!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Election Day

 

  
**Chapter 1: Election Day** **  
**  

Norbert Leach took a deep breath and entered the floo. This was the biggest day of his life to date. His best robes were clean and freshly ironed. He hoped the floo didn't damage them - he'd rather have changed at the ministry, but he had to floo to the atrium so people would see him as soon as he arrived. Today, everything had to be perfect.

 

He was glad he hadn't waited to change when he stepped out of the fireplace into the flash of cameras. He'd been prepared for a few reporters, but not this kind of reception. Members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol in full uniform, wands in hand, even a couple of Aurors. He knew why they were here - there had been protest marches already, since his candidacy was announced. Funnily enough, it had probably helped him - the majority of the wizarding population was made up of half-bloods and muggle-borns, many of whom would vote for him just to spite the pure-bloods.

   
He held up a hand, waved and smiled. Senior members of his team were here to greet him, and he shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. The serious business would wait until they were out behind closed doors. First he cleaned off the ash from the floo with a casual flick of his wand. The crowd was cheering and reporters were calling questions, but he took his time strolling over to the magically-reinforced barrier where reporters held out wands. They had already cast spells so that sound to which these wands were exposed would be broadcast on the radio. Like muggle microphones.

   
On the badge of one reporter Norbert read the letters WWN. This was the important one. He couldn't imagine how many people were seated at home now listening to the Wizarding Wireless, but his team told him it was a lot. In the next few hours, they would be casting their votes. He wanted those votes.

   
He listened carefully to the questions. He was the last candidate to arrive, and he'd had the radio on at home to listen to the others giving their answers. Most of the questions were the same. One, the topic of the year it seemed. "What is your view on blood status?"

   
He'd answered the question enough times over the past few months. "Blood status has no real meaning. What does it matter who your parents are, compared to who you are yourself? My parents may be muggles, but I am a wizard. I have a wand, passed my NEWTs, and work at the ministry like so many pure-bloods. It is not who your parents are, but who you are, that really matters." A resounding cheer - that was what the crowd had been hoping to hear.

 

A few more questions, a final wave to the crowd and the cameras, then he led his team off along the passageway between the law enforcers towards the lift. They were yelling his name - "Nob-by! Nob-by! Nob-by!" That stupid nickname - he'd tried to run under his real name, but the nickname got out. Maybe it would help him - he was the people's candidate, the one they felt a connection to. Calling him by a nickname showed that they liked him.

   
He threw up a shield charm and ducked. The curse rebounded off the shield - Ravenclaw reflexes, and practise. As the golden grilles slid shut, he saw Aurors surrounding someone with wands raised. The lift moved down before he could see anything else. The first time, he'd been shaken by the attack. Now, he'd come to expect it. It was good publicity, at least, even if it did mean he had to be on his guard at all times.

   
There was an Auror in the lift with them, who remained silent while the others talked. He was the first out when they reached the Level Nine, leading the way down the stairs to Level Ten and the courtrooms. Courtroom One was used for speeches and so on, its design making it perfect to hold journalists, officials, and candidates. Chairs with chains and other items used in criminal trials were not present here - unlike the other courtrooms, this one had cushioned benches and carpets. Lighting was good, and there was a balcony round the top for spectators. Apart from being used for this kind of event, Courtroom One was used when the Wizengammot met to discuss new legislation. Security was good down here.

   
Below the courtroom were rooms, not bare holding cells like the other courtrooms but with carpets and chandeliers and sofas by the walls. A low coffee table in the centre was already strewn with sheets of paper and files - the team had arrived earlier and waited in here until Norbert arrived. He lowered himself down onto the sofa as the rest arranged themselves around the room. The Auror remained outside the door, which was now closed.

 

"Well," said Norbert, looking round at everyone. "A very good morning to you all." He took out his wand, flicking it at the wireless in the corner. There were a few copies of the Daily Prophet on the table, and he summoned one. As expected, there was his face on the front cover. It had been most days since the candidates were announced, occasionally accompanied by one or more of the other candidates, or the protest marches. The others were all normal candidates - about him there was controversy, and with controversy came stories. Not quite the stories he'd have liked, but it was publicity.

   
On the radio they were reporting on the attack in the atrium. Another pure-blood. The reporters were having the usual conversation, about the motives behind the attack. At least they threw in some compliments about his quick reactions.

   
A boy, still Hogwarts age by the look of it, tapped on the door. "Mr Leach, sir, they're ready for you now." He stammered over the words, although he must have practised them several times. He looked up at Norbert with undisguised admiration as well as curiosity.

   
"Thank you - I will be along in a moment." The boy looked even more delighted to be addressed by Norbert Leach himself. Hopefully no pure-bloods were watching, or he might be in trouble later.

   
"Run along, boy," growled the Auror, the first thing he'd said since joining the party in the lift. The youngster seemed to snap out of his trance and after a wary glance at the grim-faced Auror hurried off back down the corridor. Norbert's personal assistant fussed over his robes and hair, then they were stepping out into Courtroom One. Cameras flashed, and he held up a hand in greeting before moving to his party's bench. His opponents were also settling themselves, and when at last everyone was settled the final part of the campaign began.

   
One by one, they stepped up to make their final speeches and answer last-minute questions. As always, Norbert went last. The organisers wanted it this way because it was him the people wanted to hear, and he had no objection. Abraxas Malfoy was directly before him, and it looked like he did object. An old-school pure-blood, Malfoy was used to getting his way. But not any more. Things were changing, and Norbert Leach was at the forefront.

 

Malfoy went on about tradition, as always. How the wizarding world was at threat from muggles and measures must be taken to prevent everything of value slipping away. Fancy words, popular opinions of the past, classic stereotypes. Muggle-borns were unnatural, nearly muggles, must steal their magic from somewhere. Ignorant and weak, apparently. Few believed that now - Norbert knew it, but Malfoy didn't seem to have noticed.

   
He'd prepared his own speech weeks ago, with help from his team. He'd practised at home, so he was word perfect, and his publicity manager had helped him with the delivery. When to pause, which words to emphasise, and so on. He was a Ravenclaw, and he liked to be prepared. He also had a good memory.

   
A time for change. A need for progress. The wizarding world was saturated by traditions - it was time for a fresh start. Time to judge on ability, not blood status. He told the people what they wanted to hear. He challenged the system. He promised action. They loved him.

   
 The cheers at the end were less than in the Atrium, but of course there were less people here. "Mudblood!" He didn't look up. There was always one. Shouting insults was allowed, so long as wands didn't come out. Anyway, insults like that made the crowd cheer louder. Even some of the reporters referred to him by that name.

   
"I prefer the term muggle-born. Besides, does it really matter who my parents are?" He'd received piles of letters of admiration from muggle-borns thanking him for giving them confidence. He had a couple of curse-breakers in his team who sorted his mail - he received a lot of hate-mail, including howlers and curses. They passed him the nice letters and anything that was actually important.

   
After a few hours of speeches and question/answer sessions, the candidates were released back to their preparation rooms. They weren't needed at the ministry again until the evening, when the vote counting began. Over lunch, Norbert finished the Prophet and kept vaguely aware of what was happening on the Wizarding Wireless. It was mostly election talk, mostly about him.

   
Meal over, they apparated to the Diagon Alley in a final bid for votes. Then on to Hogsmeade, and a change into muggle clothes before heading to Godric's Hollow. Quick visits to major polling stations, before changing back into robes to return to the Ministry.  
The atmosphere had changed. In the morning had been excitement, enthusiasm. Now it was tense. There were still cameras and reporters everywhere, still Law Enforcers and Aurors on duty, but people were talking amongst themselves more and everyone who could was listening to the WWN. Norbert held up a hand in greeting as he stepped out of the floo, but didn't stop to talk to the journalists as he had earlier. A squad of Law Enforcers and two Aurors accompanied him and his party back down to the room below Courtroom One.

 

An initial buzz of conversation died away quickly, and everyone sat in silence. The wireless in the corner was on, the topic of the evening the build up to the election results. Norbert turned it off and stood, tired of hearing about the same thing. He didn't need any more reminders that this evening was the one years of preparation had been working towards.

   
"Anyone hungry?" It wasn't really a question. The team had to stay with him, and besides it was a long time since lunch. The restaurant was pretty full, even though it was early, but fortunately a private room was reserved for them. The waiter came and took their orders, and ten minutes later they were settled down to the meal. Norbert was beginning to feel the nerves - the tense atmosphere in the ministry was getting to him.

   
They took their time over the meal, trying to stay calm and enjoy the food. Just for today, the bill would be paid by the Ministry. A pity Norbert couldn't take full advantage of it - he'd started off hungry, but waiting for the food to arrive his appetite had almost disappeared. Hanging around was not something he wanted to do, so as soon as everyone had finished they stood to go back down.

   
As they passed the door of another private room, it opened to allow a waitress to slip out. Norbert heard laughter, and caught a glimse of Abraxas Malfoy surrounded by not just his party but several friends. Their eyes met, just for a second, before the door swung shut again. Just long enough for Malfoy to mouth the word "mudblood".

   
Later, they all entered Courtroom One and returned to their benches. If the atmosphere had been tense before, now it was taut. The reporters waited in silence, cameras still for the moment, waiting for the results of the election to begin coming in. The previous Minister, Harfang Longbottom, was one of the old pure-bloods. He'd married into the Black family, and had been very much against change. Now he entered too, and the cameras were in use again. He ignored the journalists and walked straight past Norbert to greet Malfoy. The pair were good friends - the old families tended to stick together. Norbert had met a couple of the younger Longbottoms and found them very pleasant, but Harfang was an old-style pure-blood.

   
Later still, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengammot entered accompanied by a couple of members. One of them was the boy who'd called them earlier - apparently the British Youth Representative. The lad looked slightly dazed, which was unsurprising as he had to be less than seventeen. Norbert had tried for the post a couple of times, in fourth and fifth year, and both times had been turned away shortly after explaining that he was muggle-born.

   
Silence fell immediately. The flashes of the cameras seemed to be in slow-motion as a row of Aurors entered flanked by Law Enforcers. Each Auror carried a wooden box covered with a piece of plum-coloured velvet. On each cloth was the Ministry ensignia, and the Aurors filed in to stand around the round table in the centre before placing the boxes down.

   
The cloths were drawn off, each laid on the table beside its box. The boxes were opened. Inside each was a large glass ball filled with swirling white smoke. In the centre of the table was a huge object covered with a larger cloth. The Chief Warlock drew out his wand and the cloth rose up elegantly before shrinking and vanishing. Now revealed, a crystal ball like the others but far larger, filled with the same swirling white smoke.

   
The Chief Warlock spoke the spell out loud, as was traditional. The crystal balls had been enchanted carefully to only respond to three spells. The first, the spell to record each vote. The voter touched it with their wand and spoke the name of the voter, and the sphere recorded it. Te second had just been spoken: to reveal the results. The third and final spell cleared the records so that the spheres could be used again.

   
There were other spells already set on the spheres. One, when the sphere was set to take votes, casting a sound-proof bubble inside which only one person could stand at a time. One to ensure that each witch or wizard only voted once. One to conceal the nature of votes already cast. One to reject certain individuals, particularly those not yet of age. And one to detect and if possible remove all mind-altering spells affecting voters, including but not limited to the Imperius Curse. Norbert had studied the system carefully. Most of the current protective enchantments on the spheres had been introduced by Grogan Stump during major reforms in 1812. After that, further additions could not be made to the spheres themselves as the spheres were affected only by the three set enchantments.

   
In the sphere closest to the Chief Warlock, the smoke was no longer white. Different colours swirled, one for each candidate. Malfoy's colour was green. Norbert's was blue. Other candidates had red, gold, black, and purple, but it was the blue and green that were fighting for dominance. The colours settled in layers, the largest on top. Green. Norbert leant back on the bench and shrugged to the rest of his team. The first sphere was the one on which the fewest votes had been cast, and it was well known that this particular one always went to one of the old pure-blood families.

   
The smoke in the central sphere changed colour to match the first small one. Cameras flashed and noise levels rose as the reporters began to deliver the news on the wireless. Norbert had his eyes fixed on the second sphere, in which the colours were now swirling. Green, blue, green, blue - green. The central sphere adjusted to take into account the additional votes. The spells were complex - the colouring in the central sphere took into account the number of votes cast on each sphere, not just the proportions. It generated a very satisfying visual indicator of the progress of the election. Especially satisfying if your colour was filling the majority of the space. Malfoy looked very pleased with himself.

  
It wasn't until the sixth sphere that the run of green was broken. A very slight margin brought blue to the top, and cheers broke out around the packed balcony. Norbert raised his hand in acknowledgement and shared a smile with the team. It was only just beginning, and these early results meant little. Not that he was underestimating them, but each of these early spheres had recorded only around a hundred votes.

   
Green again, and again. The proportions in the central sphere showed the gradual shift. The odd blue helping to balance it, but the green crept down, filling the sphere little by little. Three-quarters full, and only six spheres remained white. The room was silent apart from one reporter speaking softly, broadcasting to the entire nation the events in this room. Three more green, and two blue. The proportions evened out a little, but Malfoy still held almost two-thirds of the votes. One sphere remained.  
  
   
Malfoy was smiling slightly, talking to members of his party. The room was silent except for the reporter. The colours began to swirl. Green, blue, green, blue- Blue. Not even narrowly, a flood of blue almost filling the sphere. The colours in the central sphere began to shift. Norbert turned slightly to his personal assistant, who sat next to him with a resigned expression. He grinned.  
  
   
"You know which sphere that is?" A second's confusion, then understanding dawned. The second to last sphere was Hogsmeade, and covered the residents and resident Hogwarts staff as well as wizards and witches nearby. The one before that was Knockturn Alley, and predictably it was almost entirely green. Other spheres were placed in discrete locations near areas with a large wizarding population. But most of those who didn't live within walking distance of one of those locations went to one place.  
  
   
"Diagon Alley."  
  
   
Diagon Alley. The rest were just formality - this was the one that counted. The exact statistics for different stations weren't publicised, but it was estimated that in major elections like this the Diagon Alley centre received more votes than the rest put together.  
  
   
The central sphere was still changing. Blue swelled up, pushing the green back, then it was swirling. At the top, blue blossomed, and the cheering began. Norbert didn't move yet, not until the result was certain. A sharp look kept the rest of his team in their seats. The blue flowed down, down, pushing the green away, and at last settled. A moment's pause, and the cameras flashed, before the blue swelled to fill the entire sphere. Norbert had thought he was prepared, but now everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The blue smoke, pulling inwards, forming into an image of his head.  
  
   
The cheers seemed to fade into the distance. A few cries of "mudblood" were drowned out, and Norbert wouldn't have heard them anyway. His team pushed him to his feet, and he raised his hands into the air in acknowledgement and triumph. The team were patting him on the back, and he was walking out into the centre of the courtroom towards the Chief Warlock.  
  
   
He'd practised for this, of course. He had known he might not win, but then again he might, and he had to be prepared. He was glad now that he'd done it so many times, because his mind wasn't functioning properly. He stopped the correct distance away, bowed, then when invited laid his hand on the Staff of Merlin. The Youth Representative, wide awake again now with all the excitement, held up the card with the words he had to say. Norbert had memorised them, of course, but he was having trouble concentrating and so the aid was welcome.  
  
   
"I, Norbert Leach, do vow-" his mouth formed the words laid down centuries before by Merlin himself (revised slightly in later years and adapted to better suit the purpose), promising to serve the wizarding world, to be just and honourable, to do his best for the people, to shun corruption and deal only in the truth. Words that had meant so little to previous Ministers, had been ignored even by Harfang Longbottom. Words that, to Abraxas Malfoy, would have been only a formality. Norbert Leach meant ever word.  
  
   
He spoke the last word, then sank to one knee with head bowed. He'd researched every part of the ceremony. Apparently the new minister knelt to show that they were the servant of the people. The Chief Warlock raised the Staff of Merlin and struck it on the ground three time. Each time the sound reverberated through the room. Even the WWN reporter was silent now.  
  
   
"Norbert Leach, I charge you in the name of Merlin, Prince of Enchanters, to devote your time in office to the cause of justice and to serve the people of the Wizarding World to the best of your ability, to seek to do always what is right, and to shun those who attempt to convince you to do otherwise. I wish you good fortune, and may the wisdom of Merlin guide your decisions. I present now to the wizards and witches of Britain: Minister for Magic Norbert Leach." Norbert rose and turned, and as the echoes of the Chief Warlock's words died away the cheers once again swelled to fill the room.  
  
   
The unsuccessful candidates had stood when Norbert began his vow, with everyone in the room. Ceremony over, all gathered in the centre to shake hands. Most offered congratulations, but Norbert knew what he could expect from Malfoy.  
  
   
"Think you've done it then, mudblood? Don't worry, it won't last long. You'll be running back to your filthy muggle parents before long." Malfoy moved away, not giving Norbert a chance to respond. Tradition stated that the new Minister and party should leave the room first. When Norbert returned to the team ready to go, he glanced around the room one last time. Malfoy had already gone.  
  
   
It wasn't until he arrived home that the evening's events finally began to sink in. He'd spoken to reporters, posed for photos, then joined Heads of Department for a celebration in the otherwise empty restaurant. It was almost four in the morning when he finally managed to floo home, and he had to speak very carefully as he was nearly asleep. Travelling by floo when nearly asleep is not recommended.  
  
   
Exhausted as he was, he couldn't sleep immediately. He lay in bed, remembering the orb filling with blue smoke in the shape of his head. He was Minster for Magic! He'd beaten Abraxas Malfoy, who came from one of the old families! He, muggle-born Nobby Leach, had beaten pure-blood Abraxas of the House of Malfoy! For the first time ever, the Minister for Magic was a muggle-born.  
  
   
Eventually his breathing slowed and he slept, unaware of the Aurors now stationed outside the house.


	2. The Squib Rights Marches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting a system centuries old, every day is a struggle for Norbert Leach. Getting his views heard, trying to introduce much-needed changes, and even keeping his temper as every move is blocked by blood-purists.

**Chapter 2: The Squib Rights Marches**

  
   
Norbert glanced at his watch. They'd been in this meeting for four hours so far and were still a long way from reaching an agreement. Something had to be done before the protests got out of hand, but as always the old crowd blocked any attempt at progress. Norbert had been polite and patient at first, had listened to all their arguments, but now it was a struggle to keep his temper in check.  
  
As yet another perfectly reasonable suggestion was batted down, he snapped. "Fine. What do you propose we do, then?" Everyone looked up, and several of those present put down quills with guilty expressions having spent the past three hours doodling as Norbert and the pure-bloods argued. Vincent Macnair smirked at the fact that he'd got to Norbert, and began to speak in a slow drawl.  
  
"I see no problem with the current laws." His cronies nodded, and Norbert almost screamed. There clearly was a problem, because for the past fortnight Diagon Alley had been overrun by Squibs. So far they had marched peacefully, but how much longer would that last? In the past few days, more had begun to mass around the visitor entrance to the Ministry itself! So far, they'd been careful, and staff from the Muggle Liason Office had persuaded them to move on. But there could be a serious risk to the International Statute of Secrecy.  
  
He let Macnair continue anyway - he had asked the question after all, and Macnair had already given a demonstration of not allowing anyone else to fully explain their ideas until Head Auror Philip Shacklebolt threatened to have him removed from the room. Shacklebolt was a pure-blood, so Macnair had looked shocked but hadn't argued.  
  
"Squibs are one step above muggles. They have no magical powers, so why should they share the rights of those who do? They are barely members of our community - why should we change our laws to please them? They must be taught their place. If there is to be a new law, let it be about the obstruction of public places and inconveniencing true wizards."  
  
Norbert felt cold inside. Macnair spoke of teaching Squibs their place. His tone hinted at a threat - not just Squibs, but muggle-borns. He knew if he conceded now, it would only be a matter of time before that step was made. If he let them win now, it would be easier for them next time, and before long he would be nothing more than a puppet minister.  
  
Plus he disagreed with what they were suggesting.  
  
"Squibs and muggles are not the same, Macnair. Of course they are not wizards, but they do contribute to our society. There are many Squibs working in the muggle world in ways that benefit us - in the muggle post service, at their hospitals, and in the police call-centres." He'd been surprised to learn that when he was researching ready for this meeting, but it made sense. "They ensure the continued secrecy of our world by identifying the signs of magic and alerting the ministry or St Mungo's."  
  
Macnair and his companions made their disgust at this clear. Squibs, voluntarily working with muggles? Unsurprising, and surely that just supported their point about Squibs being one step above muggles. They were aware, that was all.  
  
"Muggle letters sent to magical residences, including but not limited to Hogwarts. The muggles would think it a prank at first, but might grow suspicious. If you were unconscious and were admitted to a muggle hospital with a magically-induced condition, it would likely be one of those Squibs who would arrange your transfer to St Mungo's. They save lives, lives of what you call 'real wizards'. If there is a disturbance in a muggle neighbourhood and one calls the police, the Squibs in the call centres can spot the signs and contact the DMLE. Damage limitation - the mess can be sorted out immediately instead of waiting for rumours to trickle through."  
  
"They do muggle jobs, and retain an awareness of the world that raised them. We let them visit our private places, allow them to be aware of our existence. A few repay our kindness with occasional pieces of information. They have not earned the right to inconvenience true wizards in this way."  
  
"They do valuable work which would otherwise have to be done by wizards and witches. Would you like to spend your like in a muggle hospital working as they do and hiding your magic just in case someone comes in having been hit by a curse? Would you like to be forever on your guard, careful not to let something slip?"  
  
"Muggle-borns could do it. They'd be right at home amongst all the muggles." Norbert could see that he was not the only one angered by that statement.  
  
"By the time they leave Hogwarts, there is not so much difference as you seem to think. Certainly, they have been training for jobs in their own world and it would be unfair to drive them back to the muggle world if they do not want to go. Very few would want to go, Macnair. Not enough to replace all of the Squibs."  
  
"We take them into our world and teach them our secrets. They owe-"  
  
"No, Macnair. We do not owe you anything. Magical children are all offered the same education, but for the first eleven years of their lives muggle-borns have no contact with the world they will later enter. When we make it to Hogwarts we know nothing of magic except from a short visit by a Hogwarts professor and what we have picked up from our textbooks. But of course we are welcomed by our fellow students and helped to catch up- no. Some help us, but others look down on us just because our parents are muggles. We work as hard and are as capable as any other witch or wizard. In fact often the brightest students are muggle-born because we feel the need to work hard to prove ourselves."  
  
"We were talking about Squibs, not muggle-borns." Norbert allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction - Macnair had no more arguments.  
  
"Yes, and then you moved the subject on to muggle-borns. It is relevant to the debate we are having." Norbert hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was enjoying this. He liked heated debates, particularly when he was in control. That was the reason he'd got into politics in the first place. He didn't enjoy being insulted because of his parentage, but he was taking his revenge by ripping his opponents apart. Metaphorically, of course.  
  
"You say that muggle-borns are better than true-" Macnair caught the Shacklebolt's eyes- "those with magical parents?"  
  
"I say that they are no worse, and many work harder."  
  
"I challenge you to a wizard's duel. No stake but honour. If I am victorious, you will concede that muggle-borns are weaker than those of magical birth." There were gasps around the room, but Norbert's eyes were fixed on Macnair. If he accepted, it could signal a lack of control. If he refused, he would lose respect. If he won, he might finally put an end to all of this blood purity nonsense and make life easier for other muggle-borns. If he lost-  
  
The room seemed a long way away, and Norbert's brain struggled to process the idea. Everyone's eyes were fixed on him, and he needed to answer now... The challenge hung in front of him, an opportunity but also a risk. If he refused, Macnair would say that he clearly did not believe in his own claim. That they were just empty words. That all his words were meaningless-  
  
"And if I win, you will admit publically that muggle-borns are equal to those with magical parentage." If he lost, he would be driven from his post as Minister. He would lose the support he currently had, and it was unlikely there would be another place for him in the Ministry or elsewhere in the wizarding world. And it would be a step backwards in the drive for equality, undoing all he'd achieved and likely more. However it might drive the muggle-born population to take action at last.  
  
"You accept?"  
  
"I accept, on one condition." Macnair tipped his head to one side, eyebrows raised questioningly. The pose was clearly mocking. "I choose the day." The room had been silent, but now whispering broke out. Norbert ignored it.  
  
"Tradition is that the challenger names the place and time."  
  
"I've never been one for tradition."  
  
Macnair hesitated, seemingly unsure of how to reply to that. He was used to being in control, and right now he wasn't.  
  
"Norbert!" Norbert turned to see the woman who'd hissed his name - his Senior Undersecretary. "Be careful. Think!"  
  
He answered calmly, his voice quiet. "You know me. I always do."  
  
Macnair cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to himself. "Name your day, then, and I will set the time and place."  
  
"The fifth of November." Today was the third of September, so that gave him almost two months. He wanted to get the Squib stuff sorted out first, and he wanted time to prepare, but for as long as he left it his term as minister would be overshadowed. He also knew the significance of the day, which few of the pure-bloods would recognise. Remember, remember... he would blow up their old regime, kick-start a new era.  
  
"Noon, in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic." Most of the workers would take an early lunch break to watch. Macnair was confident, and he wanted an audience. Norbert hoped that the plan would backfire - whatever the result was, it would be significant.  
  
"Very well. Now shall we get back to the matter at hand?" Norbert did not wait for a reply. He didn't want people to be distracted any more until the current situation was dealt with. "I propose meeting with representatives of the protest group to discuss their demands and what concessions they are willing to make. So far we are working only with the petition and the statements given by protesters, and we should ensure we have all of the details before rushing into decisions."  
  
"You don't intend to listen to them? Nothing but troublemakers - give them have their way once and you'll never be able to refuse again." It was ironic, Norbert felt, that they reminded him of that. It applied more to the traditional pure-bloods, and their demands would be more numerous and more significant than the Squibs were likely to make.  
  
"I have never found any harm in listening. All that is lost is time, and we mostly waste that anyway." He refrained from suggesting that they try it. Childish bickering would get them nowhere and he would lose respect. The hint he'd made should be clear enough.  
  
"We know what they will say-"  
  
"Do we? They haven't told us yet. Unless you are a seer..." Norbert had given up on being polite. Macnair made it impossible, and it was too tempting to be smart. He was a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaws always had answers. Even if it was dangerous.  
  
Macnair couldn't do more, not in front of all these people who supported Norbert. He muttered to his companions, and as Norbert couldn't hear he pretended to ignore it. He drafted a letter to the Squib protest group and other members of the group made suggestions on the wording. The situation was volatile and required careful handling - the opposite of what Macnair advocated.  
  
Compared to most of the pure-bloods Norbert had been forced to work with so far in his time as minister (Shacklebolt was an exception to this rule), the meeting with the Squibs was easy. They didn't want much really. Free access to St Mungo's regardless of ailment (at present they were only admitted as a result of spell or potions damage, like muggles),  to be permitted to use wizarding stores and organisations such as Gringotts in the same way as wizards and witches, and the right to vote in wizarding elections.  
  
The last would be the most problematic. Access to St Mungo's was a reasonable request, and the government could manage it. Use of Gringotts would have to be discussed with the goblins, but provided they paid the usual fees it was unlikely that there would be any issues. In use of wizarding shops, there would be certain limits. They could not purchase wands. The law stated that only wizards and witches over the age of eleven might possess a wand, and it was not just Squibs but all muggles and both magical and non-magical creatures. Besides, what use would a wand be?  
  
Norbert found the three representatives very reasonable, if determined. They understood the restrictions on wands, but they would like to be able to eat and drink in wizarding venues in the same way as wizards. They would like to be permitted to purchase robes if they wished - for family gathering, for example - and enchanted objects such as sneakoscopes and foe-glasses.  
  
They also wanted the right to move in wizarding areas, including at Quidditch matches, free from discrimination. And legally they should be equal to wizards in that harm done to them should carry the same penalty as harm done to wizards. Norbert made a mental note to check that - surely the laws were not that outdated! Actually, judging by what he already knew, they probably were. There was probably something in there about having magical parents too.  
  
The basic demands set down and initial responses give, the meeting descended quickly into unnecessary wrangling about tiny details. Norbert had what he needed to know, and the next stage would be to draft a new bill with his council and bring it to the Wizengammot. No doubt Macnair would present his alternative, a ban on such protest marches, as he certainly had the backing to do so from important members of the community. It was obvious to Norbert that banning peaceful protests would spark all-out riots. The people valued the right to have their voices heard.  
  
He drew the meeting to a close as quickly as he could and immediately went to his office to start work on the new bill while it was fresh in his mind. Two hours later he had to admit there was nothing more he could do for now and he locked it in his desk drawer. Then he turned to the documents which, at his request, one of his assistants had delivered for him. The list of those currently or recently competing in the duelling circuit.  
  
One of the main benefits of Hogwarts was that almost every witch and wizard in the country had been educated there. Most of the names on the lists were familiar, and Norbert picked out a woman who'd been a Ravenclaw in the year above. Her records showed that she was pretty successful, and she was muggle-born so she'd probably be keen to help. Thanks to the ease of owl post, he didn't need to search for an address - the name on the front of the envelope would be enough. His Defense professor had taught the class to duel, but Norbert was out of practise and he suspected Macnair had more experience than him. In a funny way, that might give Norbert an advantage.  
  
Norbert liked to do things properly. Working on new laws, he did much of the work himself - pouring through old records and existing laws. He arranged meetings with experts, and he spoke to members of the public. It was necessary, because anything but a perfect argument would be ripped apart by his many opponents.  
  
He brought the same perfectionism to duelling. His new coach tried to make allowances for him, but he told her repeatedly not to. Macnair would not let him win - he would have to fight as hard as he did every day to get himself heard but if he lost the consequences would be more severe. He would not give up, would keep fighting until he was unable to do so. All but the unforgivable curses were permitted and the loser would likely end up seriously injured or even dead. Norbert knew he could not afford to hold back.  
  
The Squib Rights Act was drafted, and Norbert took it to the council. As Minister for Magic, he did not need their approval, but to bypass them would cause bad feeling not only from them but from the wizarding world in general. A few Ministers had chosen to ignore their councils, and their terms of office had without exception been short. Particularly those who also ignored the Wizengammot. People liked their leaders to be accountable.  
  
Norbert had a feeling he might have to bypass his council. The petty blood purists devalued the whole system anyway, but it would be dangerous to replace them. Actually the only safe option was to allow every move to be blocked by the blood purists, but that would earn him the anger of those who had voted for him. He would try to work correctly, but if that failed he would bypass the council and deliver the new bill to the Wizengammot. He was not fool enough to ignore them.  
  
With the non-blood-purist members of the council, Norbert managed some debate (ignoring the interruptions as much as possible, assisted by Shacklebolt), and he passed his annotated copy of the bill over to his Senior Undersecretary to write out the second draft. The new copy would be circulated and they would meet again in two days' time, when if there were no more alterations proposed he would call for a vote of approval. The blood-purists were outnumbered on the council, but how many of the others would be afraid to speak against them?  
  
More alterations were proposed, now mostly petty issues with the wording. Wording was important, but Macnair was raising issues for the sake of delaying the process. Once again Norbert found himself battling to contain his temper, as they fussed over whether "a" or "one"  should precede a single object.  
  
Eventually Shacklebolt's glare silenced Macnair's drawl and they could move to a vote. Norbert's mouth was dry - if the bill was not approved, he could bypass the council, but it would cause offense and raise questions about both the council's existence and his accountability. He would do it, but his term of office might not last much longer.  
  
He achieved a majority, just. The following morning one of the council members who had openly supported the bill was found dead in the burnt-out shell of his home. He was muggle-born. An inquiry was launched, but Norbert doubted they would find anything.  
  
A sitting for the Wizengammot was scheduled for the following Thursday. Macnair presented an alternative bill, supported by a petition with over one hundred signatures (the number necessary for an independent bill to be heard in the Wizengammot) calling for a restriction on the gathering of more than three of "those of non-magical ability" in public wizarding locations. It gave the DMLE authority to use whatever methods necessary to break up such gatherings. When a copy of the final draft was delivered to Norbert's office three days prior to the meeting, he felt cold inside. The measures proposed were brutal.  
  
Norbert spent morning of the first Wizengammot sitting training for the duel, which was drawing closer. He showered and ate a good lunch before flooing to the office and making his way down to Courtroom One. He wore his official robes and was joined at the door by the Head of the DMLE. He had attended only one sitting of the Wizengammot before, and that was as a spectator. He'd queued for hours beforehand to stand in a corner at the back of the balcony, but as a sixteen year old he had been fascinated. When he'd returned to Hogwarts after that summer he had already decided that he wanted to become a politician.  
  
He remembered standing on his toes and craning his neck to watch the distant figure of the current minister. Now he'd be the one presenting the bill. He resisted the temptation to check that his notes were still in his file - he'd checked before coming down - and he walked through the door as it was held open for him.  
  
He hadn't prepared himself for the rush of emotions that hit as he entered the Courtroom. He hadn't been here since the election, when the central sphere had flushed blue and an image of his face had been displayed to the world and to the cameras. Since he'd taken his vow, and been acknowledged by the cheers of the spectators on the balcony. The press were there again, and there were spectators on the balcony, but the atmosphere was very different now.  
  
He took his seat on the front row and saw Macnair already positioned opposite. The majority of the Wizengammot were seated and talking amongst themselves, but they fell silent when three knocks sounded through the room. The Chief Warlock and other senior members of the Wizengammot proceeded slowly up the centre of the room to their seats, at the back the Youth Representative looking mildly less overwhelmed than he had at the election. The meeting was opened, and the debate began.  
  
The first matter was the amendment to the victim laws to make Squibs equal to wizards. The council had approved that first, and the speed had been largely thanks to Macnair himself. The current laws referred to "those of magical ability". Macnair seemed supportive of Norbert's objection, suggesting that it be replaced by "those of magical blood and ability". His willingness to suggest a change fortunately put Norbert on his guard, and he immediately spotted Macnair's trick - the new wording would cover neither Squibs nor muggle-borns.  
  
Shacklebolt had also spotted it and dealt with the problem calmly, pointing out that it must have been a slip of the tongue for the new wording did not meet the objectives. Clearly Macnair actually meant "those of magical ability OR blood", and these little slips happened to everyone. The blood-purists who usually caused the problems had supported Macnair's suggestion. They could hardly reject Kingsley's explanation as to do so would suggest that they had been deliberately opposing the objectives given.  
  
Even approving the addition of these two words to an existing law took far longer than Norbert might have hoped. He was glad he hadn't pushed for muggles to be covered too - that would be too much to hope for in one go. But at last the vote was called and each member of the Wizengammot cast a non-verbal spell which was registered on a clear crystal ball similar in size to the smaller election ones. It was only when every vote had been cast that the result was revealed, not following the suspense of swirling colours or the election but simply turning white for approval or black for rejection. If fewer than half of the total members voted the same way - they could abstain if they wished - the crystal ball would turn red then wipe without revealing the result, and the debate would continue until the vote was called again.  
  
If it had not been for the anonymity of the voting system, the changes would likely have been either rejected or the vote void. Fortunately the orb flushed white and Norbert thought to himself that at least he introduce one change in his time as Minister. Perhaps not enough to make it into the history books, but hopefully he wouldn't be in the history books as the most ineffective Minister of all time.  
  
The debate shifted to the Squib Rights Act and Macnair's alternative bill. The weeks dragged by and a few times the vote was called on Macnair's bill. Many times it was void, but in the end it was rejected. Norbert - and many others, not just Squibs - breathed a sigh of relief.


	3. The Pure-Blood Riots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norbert finds himself forced to make choices with no easy way out. A duel of blood pride quickly turns to chaos as he realises just how far his opponents are willing to go.

**Chapter Three - The Pure-Blood Riots**

  
  
The fifth of November arrived. Norbert had hoped that the Squib issue would be resolved before the duel, but as the date drew closer he realised how naive he'd been. The vote had been called only once so far, and it had been void. Norbert supposed that was positive - it hadn't been rejected immediately, so it must have support. People who agreed with it although they disliked change, and who were afraid to say so openly.  
  
As the lift reached the Atrium and the golden grilles slid open, Norbert saw the scale of the crowd. Platforms hovered to allow extra viewing areas, no doubt managed by opportunists hoping to cash in on the spectacle. In the centre of the Atrium, a huge open area was guarded by Law Enforcers. A raised platform would make the duel more visible to those further back. Massive shield charms bordered it to protect spectators from stray spells. Macnair had already arrived and waited with his second, by the looks of it one of the Goyle family. Norbert wracked his memory for the name, which he had heard. They'd exchanged names of seconds beforehand. Gilbert Goyle. Norbert's second was past national duelling champion Frances Piper.  
  
If Norbert's second was needed to take his place, he favoured her chances, but it was unlikely. Both duellists had arrived safely and it was unlikely that anything would happen before the duel started. If one was put out of action by a forbidden method, the other would have conceded the duel. Norbert could have injured himself so that Frances would have to take his place, but despite the stakes neither considered such actions.  
  
He glanced around the crowd. Most of the ministry were here, and the press. Others had arrived too, packing into every corner, and many were chanting that infernal nickname. "Nob-by, Nob-by!" They meant well, so he didn't mind too much. There were a few pure-bloods around, but no sign of any of the Malfoys. Odd. Perhaps they did not want to risk association with Macnair if he lost.  
  
They took their places and bowed properly, exactly according to tradition. Frances had schooled Norbert not just in duelling but in perfect etiquette, for they both knew this would be a political and a public battle. Formalities were observed, the room silent except for the sniffing and scuffing of feet as might be expected from a large crowd. The referee was one who presided over many international contests and was anonymous. On the duelling circuit referees were always anonymous and they were not permitted any form of link with the contestants. Apparently one of the main requirements for the job was the ability to produce an exceptional shield charm.  
  
The referee raised his wand and fired silver sparks in the air, and the duel began. Norbert found himself moving instinctively as he battled to protect himself from Macnair's opening attack. It was different from his practice duels with Frances - he wasn't sure which was harder, due to the differences in their styles. Macnair used brute power and Norbert was pretty sure every spell was defined as Dark Arts. Frances used speed and lightning reactions, and an enormous variety of different spells. She rarely used the same spell more than once in a duel, and every duel she created a different attack. Fast and unpredictable, and that was what she had taught Norbert.  
  
He had learn at least thirty new jinxes, curses, and charms, as well as powerful shields, every one non-verbal. They'd dipped into wandless magic, just in case he was disarmed, but he hoped not to need it. One thing he had been taught was not to plan, certainly not too far in advance. A string of three spells might be decided in advance, but he had to be able to improvise in response to his opponent.  
  
When he'd gone in to a duel with Frances with a pre-made plan, he had been disarmed in minutes (sometimes seconds). He could see from the way Macnair was moving that this particular opening was one that had been practised many times. The mistake he needed. There was one variable that could not be allowed for: the other person.  
  
In the end all it took was a stunning spell to the chest. Macnair was overconfident - Norbert had drawn him in, pretending his defence was desperate. He waited for his opponent's shields to drop, then took the opportunity. A blistering array of jinxes and curses, every one different, and many created to slip through loopholes in shield charms. Each had to be deflected in a different way, so it was just a matter of time until Norbert beat the shield. His advantage was definitely speed.  
  
A towering wave rose up between them, and Macnair turned it to fire which roared back towards Norbert where it dissipated harmlessly against his elemental shield. The wave and fire had hidden the stunner until it was too late, and when the blinding light of the fire faded and the spectators could look back Macnair lay unconscious.  
  
A tense silence, as the referee checked the result. He raised his wand and fired golden sparks into the air, ending the duel. Still breathing hard, Norbert stared down at the prone body of his unconscious opponent. He'd been regretting accepting the duel since even before the end of that meeting, but the risk had actually paid off!  
  
The referee restored Macnair to consciousness as Norbert turned to acknowledge the crowd. He held out a hand and Francis joined him - without her he wouldn't have lasted ten seconds. The cheers were deafening, and from the platforms holding the press cameras flashed. The only warning Norbert had was when members of the front rows fell silent, nudging each other and pointing. Norbert started to turn-  
  
Then the Cruciatus curse hit him. Almost instantly it lifted again, and he saw Frances with her wand in her hand. She pulled him back up to his feet, and shaken he looked across at the once again unconscious Macnair. He hadn't expected the other man to be a good loser, but an Unforgiveable-  
  
Aurors rushed forward to bind the unconscious man-  
  
Frances spun around, and Norbert copied with wand ready-  
  
And others followed their gaze-  
  
Saw the flames rear up-  
  
Then all hell broke loose.  
  
How could anyone hope to keep track of everything that was going on? Frances had the reactions of a champion duellist, but even she froze for a second before spinning to run to the referee. Those nearest the corner with the flames were screaming, pushing, and those at the opposite end had yet to catch on. When they did, every fireplace began to flash green as spectators fled, but it wasn't fast enough to prevent the crush from building.  
  
The shield still surrounded the platform on which the duel had taken place, and Norbert stared down in detached horror at the open mouths and flailing arms of people trapped against it. "Drop the shield! Drop the shield!" They couldn't just hide here. Others in the safe area looked at him with shock, and backed away. "We have to help!" The referee was shaking his head, and no-one noticed until it was too late when Frances swept away the shield.  
  
Norbert shoved his wand into his robes and crouched on the edge of the platform, reaching down to grab grasping hands and pull people up. At that moment he would have been an easy target, except possibly through Frances' protection, but fortunately no curses flew his way. The fire in the corner raged in, and although a band of Aurors flew by firing massive jets of water it had no effect.  
  
Fiendfyre. They'd studied it in seventh year Defence lessons, not how to cast it but just identification. Hadn't they been taught how to stop it? Norbert searched through his memory for an incantation, but he'd crammed so many spells in the past month-  
  
There was a small boy, just three metres from the edge of the platform. No sign of the parents, but that wasn't a surprise. He was being shoved around, stumbling and fighting to stay on his feet. Norbert got to the edge as close to him as he could, pulling people up so that boy could get to the front. The platform was getting crowded, and he could feel the heat from the fiendfyre.  
  
Then the boy disappeared from sight, and the crowd continued to surge. Where had he gone? Not far, surely? Norbert's heart sank when he saw a small mound by the wild feet. He shoved people out of the way, jumping from the platform and trying to force his way through. He was moving against the flow, and they pushed him back. He might be Minister, but all that mattered to them now was escaping the fire and the crush.  
  
"Stop! Stop! There's a boy-" No-one could hear him. Closer to, he could see that at least some of the people closest to the boy knew he was there. They were pushing back, trying to give him space, and reaching down to pick him up but being forced to stand straight again to avoid falling themselves. To fall could easily be deadly.  
  
The boy wasn't the only one on the floor, but Norbert shut out the others. The boy first. He saw movement in the air, Aurors on brooms. They were coming towards him, reaching down to lift him out of the crush. One last desperate push, stretching forward to grab a handful of cloth, before raising his other hand so they could lift him out.  
  
His shoulders and arms protested as they swung him up and pushed a broom under him. He gripped with his feet instinctively, and felt the weight lessen as the Aurors took the boy from him. They pressed close around him, and although he tried to turn and help more they wouldn't let him. He took his wand back out, intending to at least create shields or something, but before he could think of an idea they'd reached the stairs and relative calm. The crowd was still pushing up here, but they had more space and the doorway limited the flow. Of course although that meant that those who reached the stairs were safer, it made it harder to escape the room.  
  
They flew straight up to the Minister's office, getting as far from the chaos as possible before stopping. One of the Aurors took the boy and disappeared, and the others bustled Norbert into his office. Frances was already there, along with many members of the Council. Not the blood purists, Norbert noticed. The only pure-blood in the room was Philip Shacklebolt, possibly excluding some of the Aurors who were leaving again to stand guard outside the office.  
  
Philip was by Norbert's side, guiding him firmly round the desk and pushing him down into his desk chair. Away from the panic, Norbert felt the adrenaline start to drain away. He was shaking, and he buried his head in his hands. How had he not realised the danger? Of course the blood purists wouldn't just let him win.  
  
He'd known they disliked him, for daring to challenge them. An Unforgiveable - it took more than dislike. In fact the curse had been a mistake, one Macnair never meant to commit. It destroyed his image - he was a criminal. Norbert was popular with the people, and to attack him in such a way would arouse their anger. Thinking about it, if he'd lost- many would have hated him, but many more might have risen up in his defence. He could have started a revolution.  
  
Macnair had lost his temper, let his real character show. He'd exposed himself as a sham, a criminal not a member of high society, brutal and hypocritical. Incapable of losing. Good politicians had to be able to admit when they were wrong. Most people had yet to realise that very few existed. Macnair had lost his temper in front of thousands, and there was no way he could escape Azkaban. Certainly not remain on the council.  
  
Norbert looked up again. The rest of the room were watching him. "Is the building secure?"  
  
Philip Shacklebolt was calm, a blessing as always. "Not yet. My Aurors are dealing with the fire while Law Enforcers scan the entire building. All other members of the DMLE are assisting with the evacuation - those in a critical condition are being taken to St Mungo's, while treatment for less severe injuries is taking place in the Courtrooms. Others are also there until they recover from the shock enough to floo or apparate."  
  
"Less severe?"  
  
"Non life-threatening." Norbert felt sick. He'd known there would be casualties, but hope had clung on none the less. But so many life-threatening injuries that only they were taken to St Mungo's. The rest were packed into the courtrooms, and it must be full because Norbert remembered the scale of the crowd. Even if a third had left the ministry already-  
  
"Are the courtrooms secure?" So many people, who had earlier been cheering for him. Penned into large rooms, no windows and only two doors. He saw Philip's look, the Head Auror the first to realise what he meant. Philip turned his head, speaking into the air on his left.  
  
"Alert, all Aurors at courtroom level. Potential further risk to evacuation centres. Secure all centres for evacuation. All Aurors on high alert, level one." He fell silent, as though listening to something they couldn't hear, and Norbert saw that he wore a stud in one ear. That was how Philip knew what was going on downstairs without seeming to get messages. Philip spoke again, stirred from his usual calm. "Alert level one. Immediate risk of large-scale civilian and Ministry employee casualties." On the shoulders of his robes were metal buttons, and while one might be normal the other must be the other part of the communication device.  
  
They waited in tense silent, everyone having grasped the concept of what might happen. The sheer level of vulnerability of the people in the courtrooms - there was no-where else to take them, and there would be no warning. A drawn wand, and there would be many of those - people wanted to think they were ready to defend themselves - and the spell could be non-verbal.  
  
"Courtroom Thirteen. Aurors are on hand and attempting rescue of survivors. Majority fatalities expected." Philip delivered the news, and the silence dragged on. There were seventeen courtrooms, each filled with injured and terrified members of public who had come for a day out. Except for one. There were sixteen left, as vulnerable as Thirteen had been.  
  
The afternoon stretched on, waiting for Philip to deliver more news. Another courtroom, or a strike somewhere else. They couldn't predict when or where another attack might happen - Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, elsewhere in the Ministry. St Mungo's.  
  
The DMLE was stretched too far already. Aurors in the Courtrooms, attempting to secure the Atrium, guarding the Minister and members of his Council in his office. Anyone who could transporting injured to St Mungo's, searching through whatever remained of Courtroom Thirteen for survivors. And no doubt guarding Macnair in the holding cells. Even if they were present, there was little chance they'd have any warning before the place went up. They'd just be among the casualties.  
  
Any minute the entire Ministry could blow sky-high. A gaping hole in the ground in the middle of London, which could be made to look like a terrorist attack by the time muggles got to the scene. Of course that was assuming any attention was paid to the Statute of Secrecy. The ministry gone, Abraxas Malfoy could take control and reform his empire however he wished. Norbert, and all his supporters, would lie buried in the wreckage of the past. If that was what the blood-purists decided to do, there was no way of stopping them.  
  
Norbert laughed at the irony, breaking the silence. Everyone stared at him, and he explained. "We're holed away up here, hiding from the danger, but if they choose to strike we have no defence. We might just as well be out there being of some use. They can kill me as easily up here as down there, but they won't."  
  
It was coming to him as he spoke, understanding. "Macnair could have killed me during that duel - he proved that he's capable of unforgiveables. If it had been the Killing curse, not the Cruciatus, I'd be dead now. When Frances dismantled the shield to allow us to save people from the crush, they could have killed me. In the chaos, no-one would have seen until it was too late. When I was lifted up and flew from the hall. The moment the orb flushed blue and showed an image of my face."  
  
He'd been given all possible protection, but there wasn't a moment he hadn't been exposed. A curse that could not be blocked with any spell, nor deflected, only dodged. And there would have been no time to dodge. "They don't want to kill me. No Minister has been assassinated in the past two hundred years. If they kill me, I gain more support than I ever could alive. I will be in the history books, and people will begin to question the society we live in. Now I am a leader. If they kill me, I will become a figurehead. My death would spark a revolution."  
  
"They don't want to kill me. They want to destroy me." To make people afraid to support him, to make his term in office so filled with terror that he was remembered with hate. That people said that muggle-borns brought chaos, while at least pure-bloods brought peace. He would have no achievements to his name, every proposition forced down by intimidation or, if that failed, violence. Well, he had already beaten them in that respect. Two words, to revolutionise a law. Those of magical blood or ability. Pure-bloods, half-bloods, muggle-borns, squibs.  
  
"I wish to help. We could carry on hiding up here, let people feel that we have abandoned them for safety, or we could go and help. If they kill me, history will condemn them."  
  
"I will come with you. If you will not be stopped, it is my duty to accept your decisions." Philip stood. "I will not, however, alert others to our approach. What you say rings true, but only a fool takes risks for no gain."  
  
Norbert stopped at the words. "I have been a fool. I thought this duel could gain me respect, unthinking. Of course I would not be allowed to win. The outcome of the duel will be almost forgotten, just the results remaining. I vowed to serve the wizarding world, and unthinking I have brought this on my people. So many of my decisions have been wrong-"  
  
"If you had refused the duel, the council would have blocked your every move. You would have been labelled a coward. Macnair should never have made the challenge - it was his duty to assist, not oppose. If you had not responded, I would have had him removed from the council on grounds of breach of conduct. I decided not to when you accepted because it was too late to change anything and the publicity was already out of control - any act would have been elaborated to the point of fiction."  
  
"If only I'd asked you-"  
  
"He would have been replaced by another of his ilk, and you would have lost their respect as you feared. The challenge was a crossroads from which every road led to a pit of vipers. To stand there will get you nowhere, so you must find the path in which the vipers have the weakest poison. No, I do not know which that would have been, and there is no use looking back now."  
  
"A good politician is not afraid to back down, and is willing to listen to advice. Philip, tell me honestly: do you think I should stay here?" The Auror reached down and took Norbert's hands, which still trembled slightly. Clasping them between his own, he stilled the tremor.  
  
"I think you should do whatever you consider right. There is no way to win, but in which path do the vipers have the weakest poison? I think you should go to St Mungo's first, to see the wounded. Many will not last the night, but show them that they have not been abandoned. Later we will go downstairs, to the Atrium and Courtrooms. At the moment, to visit would interrupt the work of those trying to sort out what has happened. Do not disturb them yet."  
  
The plan made sense, and Norbert was glad he'd asked Philip. The Head Auror understood how he felt. "St Mungo's first. Let us stop hiding and show them all we are still fighting. No, not fighting... we are not beaten. They may fight all they like, but we will continue to serve the people who rely on us."  
  
"And it is they who shall suffer for their actions. I will come, Norbert. As you say, they do not wish to kill you, and I should be able to protect you from any other harm." Frances winked at him. "And if you try anything stupid, I can stop you from doing it." Remembering their training sessions, Norbert didn't doubt it. Powerful as Macnair had been, Frances had duelled at the highest level since back when Norbert was still in school.  
  
Nothing prepared him for the emergency wards at St Mungo's. Fiendfyre burned like any other flames, but it was wilder and tainted injuries with dark magic. The heat stayed in the flesh, creeping through the body, damaging even after the flames were removed. The spells and potions to heal it were complex and limited. For many of the burn victims, all the healers could do was ease the pain until they slipped away. In the corridors, junior healers hovered stretchers in every direction. On some lay the wounded, newly arrived. Others were covered with white cloth, no sign of even a face, clearly on the way to the morgue.  
  
Most of the injured were unconscious, and the few who were not could barely move. With their eyes they tracked the Minister's movements as he stopped and spoke to every one. They could not reply, but a few managed to force the corners of chapped lips into a shadow of a smile.  
  
There were many burn victims, but other wards were filled with those who had been crushed in the panic. Any who fell had been trampled, and particularly near the back they had been forced close enough together to be injured. Shortage of air, not helped by the smoke. Those against walls had not even been able to move in one direction, and had been forced against the solid surface. How many would be crippled for life, even of those who survived?  
  
The crush had another side-effect: accidental magic. The results were diverse. In a situation like that, packed in a hall with fiendfyre behind and no easy way out, it was not just children who lost control. Some adults didn't realise what they were doing for ten seconds or more. Spell damage was harder to heal than physical, non-magical injuries. The mental effects of the entire fiasco could not even begin to be estimated.  
  
Some of these could speak. One man slipped his hand out from under the covers and gripped Norbert's, staring up into his eyes. He couldn't speak, but it was clear he didn't blame Norbert. Both legs and several ribs broken, Norbert was told. Internal bleeding had been stopped, and the bones would mend. But his spine had also snapped, and nerves could not be repaired. He would walk only with the aid of magic, and was unable to feel his lower body. At least he would survive, and equipment could be provided to help him cope. He had avoided feeling most of the pain in his legs, which might well have saved his life.  
  
There was a boy, and a memory came rushing back when Norbert shut his eyes for a second. The same face, caught in the crowd, then vanishing from sight. He was asleep, or unconscious, but the healers said that his injuries had been healed completely. He was lucky, because another minute and he would likely have ended up dead even without further injuries. Norbert didn't tell them how he'd pulled the boy out of the crush, but he was calmer inside. It was because of him that this had happened, but at least he had saved the boy. 


End file.
